Up In Smoke
by M.R. Potter
Summary: Hermione and Sirius have a filthy habit they can't seem to get rid of. But since misery love company, maybe kicking it won't be so bad after all! Fluffy one shot.


A/N: Consider it poetic justice, but I have managed to find myself in a very Hermione/Sirius-type relationship after years of writing fanfiction based on this pairing. My boyfriend has a good few years ahead of me (but not quite as many as there are between Miss Granger and Mister Black) and I am finding there are a great many intricacies in our relationship that are ripe for the plotline picking.

I don't kiss and tell of course.

But please accept this offering of a fluffy little shot whilst I finish up Chapter Nine of The Deal. It's been a year since I've touched that story and am now finding all sorts of things to write about and weave into the story.

Allez, allez!

DISCLAIMER: As usual, I own the plot line and none of the characters.

It was a filthy habit. Hermione knew it. Sirius knew it. And throwing in the way they went about it, it was nowhere near the realm of sanitary. However, it was something they craved at the end of the day and neither could wait to get home to do it.

Sirius puffed out a plume of indigo smoke and let it curl into the air. He handed the rolled up cigarette to Hermione, who took it between two fingers and stuck it into the side of her mouth. She inhaled deeply and took in the menthol sting; the nicotine rushed through her bloodstream and immediately relaxed all the tense, pent-up muscles that collected in her shoulders.

The first cigarette after a long day. Always such a treat.

"Did you know, the first time I smoked a cigarette was in fifth year at the back of the Herbology greenhouses?" Sirius said, more to comment than to start a conversation. Hermione grinned at the image: a fifteen year-old Sirius, the very height of cool, puffing on a cigarette and trying not to explode into a fit of coughing in front of his friends.

"Whose idea was it?" she asked.

"Mine of course. Picked up a pack on a trip to Hogsmeade and learnt to roll them from the bloke who sold it to me. It wasn't very good tobacco, now that I recall," he said, leaning back against the step.

Sirius and Hermione were sitting on the front steps that led into 12 Grimmauld Place. Since they both worked at the Ministry of Magic (Department of Internal Communications for Hermione, Spell Registry and Research for Sirius), it was not unusual for them to leave for and arrive from work at the same time. They usually sat at the steps and had a cigarette before going inside to join Remus, Tonks, Ron and Harry for dinner.

Hermione was never a smoker through her school years. It was when she started working at the Ministry and travelling home together with Sirius that got her interested. Sirius just made it look so well, _cool. _She had succeeded in declining the first few sticks but when curiosity pushed her over the edge she ended up sharing whatever Sirius had between his fingers.

It was a terrible habit for her to pick up but after the long hours of the day she liked the quiet time she spent with Sirius unwinding and letting the nicotine do its job.

"The first time I ever smoked a cigarette, I was nineteen years old and a burlesque performer taught me how," she said.

Sirius looked round at her. "A burlesque performer? Do tell!" he said.

"I was at a show and my first job was a features writer for the Prophet. I was sent to interview Miss Dolce Vita after her show and take a few photographs for the piece. During the interview, she pulled out a packet of smokes and offered me one. I thought it would be rude to decline, so I had one," Hermione recounted. If she thought about it, she could still see the red sequined costume and how the smoke curled around this fantastic performer as she outlined the details of her performance in full.

"Was the article any good?" Sirius asked.

"Probably not. The photographer never showed, and when we realised this she invited me out for an after-show drink. I remember scrawling out the article at my desk the next morning after a triple shot latte and a greasy breakfast," Hermione laughed.

He couldn't help but be genuinely amused. Hermione was always the well-behaved one in most situations, and hearing that she was capable of being irresponsible sometimes made her seem even more endearing to him.

"Was it a good cigarette?" he asked.

She thought about it. "No. It was strong. The kind that sticks in your lungs well after you stub out the last of it. Kind of like what you used to smoke," she said.

"And you will notice that for your benefit I have switched to buying menthols instead of proper ones," he grinned, nudging her side.

She reached out for the stick in his hand. "Me and my palate thank you," she said.

He let her have the rest of the cigarette. He was momentarily distracted by the way her lips curled around the filter and the way her cheeks hollowed out a little when she inhaled. Even if it was such a filthy habit, she certainly made it look classy.

"We really should stop smoking, shouldn't we?" he said. Hermione's shoulder lifted once in a shrug. "You buy them and I bum them off you, so really, you should stop smoking," she said. This time Sirius had to laugh. She had such an admirable way of turning the situation back onto him and catching him unawares.

"What if this is to be our last pack? We have enough to last us the rest of the week and then we go cold turkey together?" he suggested, shaking the box at her.

She thought about it. "Well, it would be nice to have someone to be grumpy with," she said.

"Done."

Silence between the two. "Do you really think it's going to work Sirius? It's kind of our thing. What else are we going to do when we come home?" Hermione asked.

Sirius watched her take one last drag and stub out the smouldering end. "What else would you like to do?" he asked.

"I don't know. But it had better damn well be just as good as this or else I might start doing something productive," she smiled in teasing.

Sirius leaned over and bussed her lightly on the mouth.

"How about that?" he asked, mere centimetres from her face. He watched her eyes creak open and her lips touch closed for a moment before she had focused enough to look back at him.

"How is that productive?" she asked. Her insides were flip-flopping and her kneecaps felt numb and utterly useless.

"It wasn't meant to be productive. I just thought it would be a much healthier thing to do when we come home and sit down here," he grinned, stroking some hair behind her ear.

When he saw two deep grooves form between her eyebrows he kissed her forehead again and continued, "You can't have missed the way I watch you put your lips around a cigarette and take a pull."

"I just thought you wanted it back quickly," she faltered. This was sounding to be the very anticlimax of what Sirius had intended, but to her overanalysing female mind she had to know what on earth Sirius was going on about.

"Not at all love. You really do have a remarkable mouth, and I just think we should take some sort of advantage," he said, moving to kiss her again.

This time, Hermione let him touch his mouth to hers and when his tongue gently probed the seam between her lips she parted them and let their tongues dance.

It was an intoxicating taste: menthol cigarettes mixed with Sirius' own brand of mischievous seduction. Hermione found herself leaning into Sirius' embrace as he pulled her closer to himself on the step.

This really wasn't so bad. They had been dancing around each other for the longest time, flirting almost unconsciously. Whether it was an illicit brush of fingers over the sugar bowl or a discreet inhale of Hermione's hair when she bent over his proffered cigarette lighter. This was simply the inevitable conclusion to what they already knew was going on.

The streetlight flickered over them once, Tonks' way of telling the two outside to come in because dinner was ready.

"I think we're going to be fine quitting cold turkey like this," Sirius smiled as he stood up and brushed off the seat of his jeans. He offered a hand to Hermione as she stood and held on to her hand a little while longer.

She squeezed his fingers between hers and let him lead her to the front door, smiling all the way.

END

A/N: Smoking is bad, mmkay? This is not meant to condone smoking at all. In fact, I hope you will all be as inspired to quit as I was after I met my boyfriend.


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